


Foul Ball

by thecat_13145



Series: Bases [5]
Category: Numb3rs
Genre: Abusive Relationship, Dubious Consent, M/M, Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-09
Updated: 2012-09-09
Packaged: 2017-11-13 21:39:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/507982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecat_13145/pseuds/thecat_13145
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don's Past with Pete Fox</p>
            </blockquote>





	Foul Ball

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Catch Me when I fall (or Second Base)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/507953) by [thecat_13145](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecat_13145/pseuds/thecat_13145). 



> Warning: Not a Nice Fic. Non/Dub Con (I say it's Non, Don insists It's Dub) and references to a seriously screwed up relationship, and homophobic language and some strong sexual content.
> 
> Takes place slightly before Catch Me when I fall or Second Base, when Don is working with Peter Fox

“Pull up at the motel up ahead.” 

Don kept his eyes firmly fixed on the road. “We’re nearly there.”

A throaty chuckle came from the seat beside him. “you’re exhausted Don,” the words and tone completely reasonable, Peter Fox, the older more experienced agent, talking to Don Eppes, the over eager rookie. “So am I. Best to get some rest and start again fresh in the morning.”

The words were right, but the hand squeezing at Don’s thigh denied their intention.

/*/*/**//*/*/*/*/*/**/

He had been fighting the memories throughout the case, but now they overwhelmed him. Sinking to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest, Don breathed deeply, desperately trying to get some control.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, his shirt off, looking like the exhaustion has just hit him, or he’s deep in thought.

“Still thinking about the case?” Pete’s fingers walk up and down his spine and it takes all of his strength not to jerk away. But that will just make Pete mad.

They’ve played this game before.

“You’ve got to put it out of your head, Donny, can’t let it get to you” Pete’s breath is heavy and harsh in his ear, as one hand snakes down Don’s body.

“I know a way to help you forget.”

Strong, calloused hands squeeze through demin at his crouch.

/*/*/*/*/**//*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

He’s never told anyone about what happened.

The nearest he ever came was Bradford, and he thinks the other man picked up that there was something left unsaid, but he couldn’t.

After all, what could he say?

When I was a rookie agent, I had a relationship with my Senior Agent? It sounds so pathetic.

He wasn’t raped, he never said no, primarily because he never felt like he could.

He’s the best kind survivor of the worst kind of abuse, the kind people like to pretend only happens to children or vulnerable women, the kind where the abuser can get complete control of their victim and they’ll never say a word.

On the other hand, he’s also the type of victim no one wants to acknowledge, the one with the big smile on his face, confident and successful in his field, who colleagues don’t know, don’t even want to consider what hides behind the mask, even through the signs are there to see if he’d just admit it.

Poor relationship with his family, even though they may seem close on the surface, a string of broken or bad relationships, lack of a suitable role model...in his dark days, when he feels like being honest with himself, he can tell that they’re all there, just no one sees.

//**//*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/**/

“Gonna make you feel so good,” Fox growls above him, “gonna make you make you beg for it.”

Fox hasn’t even taken his jeans off, just unzipped. The zipper keeps rubbing against his ass, it’s probably going to cut, through that’s the least of his worries right now. Don’s own jeans are around his knees.

He keep his head facing the blank wall opposite him and tries to block out Fox’s voice, to concentrate simply on his body’s reactions, but Fox is too good for that.

“”Don,” the voice is soft, but menacing, “I said beg for it.”

He bits his lips together, determined that this time, he won’t break.

“Don,” the threat is still there, but he ignores it. A hand comes down, catching him on the back, not hard enough to bruise, not yet. He pulls away, struggling against the weight pushing down on top of him, but at the next blow, he gives in and pushes back, trying to force Pete to make this quick, to let it go.

Pete just chuckled.  
“Should have told me you like it rough, Don.” Teeth bit down at the joint between his neck and his shoulder, hard enough to draw blood, and the pain makes him cry out, a wounded animal sound.

“Don...” Pete’s breath is hot against his neck, the threat obvious, so he gives him.

“Please...Please...” He’s not sure whether he’s asking for it to stop or continue. Pete laughs again.

/**/*/*/**//*/*/*/*

It wasn’t always like that, he thinks, detached, clinically.

Sometimes Pete would have him on his back, holding his arms above his head with one hand, while his other explored Don’s body, twisting, pinching, hitting hard enough to do damage, but never where a short sleeved shirt would reveal it.

Other times he’d been on all fours, or leaning against Pete’s chest with the other man’s voice in his ear. “Touch yourself for me, Donny; show me how hard you can come with my dick in your ass.”

On his front was the most common through, probably just for convenience, he doesn’t know.

It’s why he hates it now with anyone else, even with Ian, who is probably the human being he trusts most in the world, he prefers to be on his back, just so he can look up and convince himself that the man fucking him isn’t Fox.

He knows Ian had something to do with Fox letting him go. He’s never said anything, but he knows that Fox didn’t let anyone go until he’d finished with them, and Don was nowhere near broken enough for Fox’s tastes, he’s met some of Fox’s other agents, and he’s doubly grateful. Both for Ian, and for Coop.

He knows his dad doesn’t like Coop, but he’s honest enough to admit that if Coop hadn’t been there back then, Don wouldn’t be here today.  
Coop showed him how a good superior behaved, not taking advantage of Don’s crush on him and being the first person who made him feel that he could like men and not be a disappointment, a horrible human being.

He couldn’t fix all Don’s problems, both of them admit that, but he put Don on the right road and that’s worth a lot.

He knows because he saw one of Fox’s previous agents when he was at Alberque. Poor Bastard got bounced around from one bad superior to the next, until one night he lay down next to his current superior, pressed the gun against his temple and pulled the trigger.

One bullet for both of them, he thinks he remembers one of the agents under his command making a joke to that effect. No one had laughed. They’d all read the suicide note. Without mentioning any names, it made it clear what had driven that agent to that point.

Don wonders if that’s when the Bureau started looking more closely at Pete.

//*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*//*/*/*/*/*/*

“God Look at you.” Fox laughs, leaning back. He’s close now, the breathlessness of his voice betraying him.

“Lying there, biting down on your lip, trying to pretend this isn’t what you wanted.” He leant in close, his breath brushing against Don’s ear. “Sitting in the office, watching me under those eyelashes, always the first one to volunteer for the road, trying to pretend that you don’t know.” He whispered. “But everyone knows. Know why? Cause you’re my bitch.”

He slammed in hard, his fingers gripping against Don’s hips hard enough to bruise. “And when a man’s got himself a bitch, he doesn’t need to spell it out. Everyone can see it.”

He slammed in hard again, hitting something that made Don yell out and come, as he felt Pete stiffen above him.  
“You’re my bitch, Don Eppes. And everybody knows it.”

/**/*/*/*/*/*/**//*/*/*

He did learn one thing from Pete, even if it wasn’t necessarily through the right methods.

He learnt, or more accurately he supposes improves his ability to read people.

But where Fox used it to manipulate and control his agents, Don uses it to help them.

He remembers David looking at him strangely when Megan joined the team, as through trying to figure it out. But Megan was the profiler, that was how she defined herself, so Don fell back into the agent in charge, asking her opinion, building her confidence.

He wishes things had turned out differently, but he can’t control forces outside of him.

For Colby, he takes Coop role, the caring, strict supervisor, who won’t take advantage of a younger agents crush. He wonders if Colby’s in the same place Don was, what exactly was the relationship between the younger man and Dwayne, but he can’t ask and Colby won’t ever tell.

And now that David’s getting more confident, ambition awakening after a long slumber, he backs off, gives the other agent more responsibility, lets his confidence grows. It helps that the cases have worked out that way.

He knows that it means that David will be leaving eventually, which he regrets, but he’s the oldest child, adapting to the roles that’s needed at the time. And it’s time for David to fly the nest and become a better agent.

He also uses Fox’s tricks to spot the agents who he can do what he does with.

But Fox chose the agents who were already vulnerable, already broken. Don chooses ones he thinks he can fix.

The girl they talk to might claim that she shot Ryba to protect Fox, but Don suspects that even if she’ll never admit it, there’s a part of her that shot him out of jealousy.

They’ll never know if Fox was fucking the internal affairs agent, as he was the others under his command, but having heard the guy’s history, Don thinks it’s more than likely.

He wonders if Fox knew and enjoyed the power trip more than usual, or if the agent was the bravest of the lot of them, the only one with the courage to take what Fox did to them, and use it against him.

He sighs, getting to his feet. So many questions and so few answers and no time to go looking for them, because Manel, the night janitor is standing there, looking uncomfortable, holding his keys out.

Don likes Manel, they’ve had a lot of chats over the years when Don has been the last person in the office and he knows Manel is very understanding about the FBI as a situation. But it’s after midnight and Manel will want to get home, to his wife and two daughters, who he drops off and picks up from school every day no matter how late he’s being up or how early school starts, and whose picture he keeps taped to his cart to inspire him when he’s on his own at night.

So he just smiles an apology and shoves everything back into the box, before heading towards the parking garage.

/*/*/*/*/*//*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

Once when he and Charlie were small, a bird flew into the Craftsman and hit it head on the window. He picked it up and put it outside again, trying to be helpful, but the bird just continued to lie still for nearly an hour, as though it was waiting to make sure the danger is past.

Don now knows exactly how that bird felt. He can hear the water running in the shower and tenses as it stops and Pete steps out.

“Should grab a shower, Don, the water’s hot.” He offers, going to sit down on his own bed and pulling a sports magazine towards him.

Don pulls himself to his feet, kicking off his jeans and underwear.

“Don.” He pauses by the shower door. Pete is looking at him.

“You don’t want to mention this to anyone. Homos can have a rough time in the bureau.”

The word strikes him in his chest like a bullet, bringing all the shame and humiliation of the act rushing through him, white hot.

He thinks he nods, before getting into the shower and turning it on as hot as it will go.

Even years later, memories of this time will have him fumbling into the shower, not matter what time it is, and scrubbing at his skin until it’s red raw, desperately trying to be clean.

And if some of the water on his face is saltier than the rest, well there’s no one to comment.

//*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

Ian Edgerton is standing by his SUV.

He doesn’t say a word, but ignores the keys when Don tosses them at him.

“Pick them up. You’re driving.” He watches as Don pauses, staring down at them. “Don, unless you do this, then Fox has won, he’s still in control. He doesn’t deserve to be. You did what you had to do back there, and I’m proud of you.”

It’s that phrase that reminds Don of why he’s with Ian, that the other man doesn’t say much, but he understands more than anyone Don knows.

He wants Ian to take control to make the decision for him, but he knows he has to do this himself.

He bends down and picks up the keys. “Thanks.”

Ian shrugs. “Your place or mine.”  
He knows that later on he’ll need to be fucked, to be forced into a place where everything that’s happened over the last few days can be analysed and make sense, but at this precise moment...

“Mind if we go for a drive first?”  
Ian shrugged. “Works for me Eppes.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Strike 1](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3301757) by [thecat_13145](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecat_13145/pseuds/thecat_13145)




End file.
